He smiled - uncertain, a little concerned - and gave a little wave.
All three heart stones glowed in unison, and Mabon’s newspaper caught fire.
“Oh, hell,” Urien muttered.
The officer took a step back. “Sir, your newspaper is…”
Mabon threw the flaming financial section out the window, and the officer stomped on it. “Spontaneous combustion! Very common with newsprint! Nothing to worry about!”
“I’m going to need you all to move along, I think.”
“Absolutely. Yes. Moving along. Right away.” Urien started the engine with hands that trembled slightly.
Through the window, their Treasure still watched, now looking significantly more alarmed.
The Range Rover pulled away from the curb with as much dignity as three dragons could muster after being rousted by local law enforcement for stalking their own mate.
“Well,” Rux said into the silence. “That went well.”
“I’m going to set you on fire,” Mabon said.
“You already set yourself on fire.”
“That was the damn newspaper.”
“Same thing.”
Urien drove exactly the speed limit, with his hands carefully positioned at ten and two on the scorched steering wheel. “We need a better plan.”
“Any plan that doesn’t involve the police would be an improvement.”
In the rearview mirror, Mabon watched the Daily Bean shrink into the distance. Their fourth stood in the window now, still watching theirretreat with an expression that was equal parts confused and wary.
Brilliant. Their first almost interaction with their fated mate, and they’d managed to look like criminals who destroy property, and who need a police escort from the premises. Dragons had conquered kingdoms with less effort than the first steps in their courtship.
Chapter Three
Sam
Basil started yowling before Sam even got his key in the lock.
“I know, I know.” Sam pushed the door open with his hip, dropping his messenger bag on the small bench in the entryway, as he nudged the door closed again. “You’re starving, absolutely wasting away. It’s a tragedy, I tell you. A tragedy.”
The tabby wound between his ankles, nearly tripping him as he headed for the kitchen. The cottage still smelled faintly of the lavender his mother had loved, even two years after she’d passed. Sam had kept her herb garden growing in the backyard, though he’d never quite mastered her green thumb.
“You literally have dry food in your bowl.” Sam pointed at the evidence.
Basil sat, tail swishing, and delivered another plaintive meow that suggested Sam was committing feline abuse.
“Fine.” Sam grabbed a can from the cupboard. Just the pop of the lid sent Basil into raptures, figure-eighting around Sam’s legs as he kept up his grumbling. “You’re ridiculous. You know that?”
He scooped the food into Basil’s bowl, and the cat attacked it like he hadn’t eaten in days instead of hours. Sam watched him for a moment as he relaxed in the quiet. His cat was spoiled, dramatic at times, and ridiculous at others, but he wouldn’t be without him.
Sam’s stomach grumbled, reminding him he needed to eat as well. Fortunately, he already had the perfect meal - the fancy mushroom tortellini he’d grabbed on sale last week, because he was too tired to cook anything that required any actual effort. He filled a pot with water, set it to boil, and leaned against the counter while he waited.
It’d been a busy shift at the coffee shop. The tourist season always brought crowds - people wanting their Instagram-worthy lattes andasking where to find the best hiking trails. Sam liked the energy of it, the steady stream of faces and small conversations that never went deep enough to require much from him.
Though sometimes he wondered what it would be like if someone actually stayed. Actually saw him as more than the friendly barista with a ready smile.
